


Paint my soul with gold

by Ravensmores



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Ballet Dancer Victor Nikiforov, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Smitten Victor Nikiforov, aaaaaaalmost smut, like I really had to try to NOT make this porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores
Summary: “Yuuri.” He feels the firmness of his own name washed against his lips, Victor’s voice barely a whisper between them. “Do you - do you remember what you were thinking about when you danced that piece?”A few minutes ago he would have lied, said anything to end the conversation, to shuffle out of his embrace and berate himself for being a coward. But right now, with nothing but the warmth of a breath between their faces and the open ache in Victor’s eyes, he can’t stop the truth brushing past his lips in a painfully earnest whisper.“You.”Because this fandom always needs more college aus.





	Paint my soul with gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandamilo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamilo/gifts).



> For the wonderful Pandamilo.
> 
> The fact I’m your secret Santa is probably not a shock at ALL but you’ve been a great support over the past few months, especially when it came to zine stuff! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Yuuri must have seen Victor dance thousands of time by now, yet he still always found some new way to take his breath away.

Whether he was simply rehearsing in one of the less-used studios on the far edge of campus, outshining everyone in whichever class he was in, or bringing an audience to their knees at every recital, it had always been an unending chain of surprises.

And today was no exception. 

The knife’s edge of December’s wind was screaming through the iced streets outside, yet right now all Yuuri can feel is a familiar warmth slowly stoking in his gut as he watches him stretch one hand out towards the audience, the arch of his back a sweet curve against the dark backdrop.

He’d seen snippets of his performance when sharing a ballet studio or agreeing to critique his form as he twirled around his living room a few times, but he really couldn’t have imagined just how beautiful the full piece would be once every element was in place: the silver of his hair styled like an artful crown on his head, the strong, slender lines of his body wrapped perfectly in the soft pinks of his costume. More than ever he was shining like the principal dancer he was supposed to be.

Yuuri knows it’s just the final recital of the semester, but he isn’t sure if he’d ever see something so alienly beautiful for the rest of his career.

Victor’s dancing could be softer than the kiss of winter’s first snow, but he can clearly see the harder determination behind that beauty. Strong like ivory, like _ice_.

_Something he knows he can never capture._

He doesn’t even realise how close he is to the glass in front of him until Victor suddenly disappears behind a cloud of condensation from his heavy awed breaths.

Phichit chuckles as he leans over, whispering directly in his ear. “Told you I’d get us a good view.”

He hadn’t been kidding. While watching from the wings or the back of the audience was fine, it certainly couldn’t beat a perfect birds-eye view from the technical box, each move on stage unobstructed by taller students or excited onlookers.

“Thanks again Seung-Gil,” Yuuri murmurs, turning to smile at the sullen looking lighting bod furiously clicking a mouse on the desk next to them.

He turns to them and rolls his eyes. “Just don’t touch anything.”

He quickly turns back to see the performance finish. Victor poses in an artful stretch as he reaches up towards the heavens, the look of sweet longing on his face clear even from so far away.

Yuuri lets himself indulge for a second, imagining that it was _him_ Victor was reaching out for, that he could see the joy on his face from watching him perform through the blinding ocean of the spotlights. That just for this one sweet second, he was his. 

He doesn’t let the fantasy last long. Knows it’ll only end up hurting him in the long run.

_He’s your friend. He’s your friend. He’s your friend._

He repeats the tired mantra for probably the thousandth time that month in his mind, the words all but burned into his brain for how often he found himself daydreaming about them being something more.

He sometimes finds it a little hard to believe that someone like Victor would want to hang out with him so much, but over the years he’s known him, he had managed to pick up when he was being honest, enough to see clear evidence that he actually enjoyed his company. 

_For so long he’d convinced himself that was enough... but recently-_

He sighs against the glass again as Victor dips down into a low bow for the audience, the following applause thunderously deafening.

“Wow,” Phichit mumbles as more than a dozen blue roses fly onto the stage from below. “Do you think anyone came today to see someone _other_ than Victor?”

He tries not to think about the lacklustre reaction to his own performance, the eyes below him clearly glued to programmes to see when the real star of their course was going to be on stage.

He sighs as he watches Victor give one last wave to the audience before gracefully exiting the stage. “Would you?”

Phichit chuckles as he waves to Seung-Gil and directs them out of the box. “Harsh.”

***

“God you’d think Rudolf Nureyev had come back from the grave with the size of that crowd.” Phichit gestures to the gaggle of students all crowding outside Victor’s dressing room as they wait backstage for him to emerge. Yuuri keeps his nose buried in his phone, ignoring the bite of jealousy burning like an open flame at the looks of pure want on their faces.

_He knows the feeling._

“He did a great job. People want to congratulate him,” he murmurs, desperately trying to distract himself with Twitter.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the _only_ reason.” Phichit sits down on the bench next to him, pushing the phone screen away from his eyes. “You should tell him you know.”

“What?”

He leans in a little closer. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“Phichit!” He flicks his eyes around, desperately hoping that no one heard. Thankfully everyone piling into the corridor was too busy either joining the small crowd outside Victor’s door or desperately trying to push past it. “I obviously can’t right now.”

“Why not?”

He ducks his head, his voice an embarrassed mumble. “Because he could hear me?”

He can feel the pointedness of Phichit’s gaze without having to lift his head, his voice a frustrated sigh as he hits him with a rolled-up programme. “ _God_  Yuuri. You’ve been pining after this guy since your first year. I’m pretty sure everyone knows  _except_  him.”  

“I’d like to keep it that way.”

Phichit hits him again, harder this time. “Frankly I don’t think all these pent-up feelings are good for your health or your grades.”

He finally lifts his head, wincing at the judgement in the other man’s gaze “It’s not the right time.”

“Ah yes, and the right time will be…. When exactly?” He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his water bottle.

Yuuri wants to slap himself for his lame excuse, the real reason a thousand times more shameful than his own cowardice.

He sighs, flicking his eyes down to look at his phone again. “He might not even like men.”

Phichit spits out his water.  _“Are you serious?”_

“He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since I’ve known him and he doesn’t exactly like talking about the other things he gets up to.” He sighs, sinking further against the wall as a few more first-year ballet students sprint past to wait by Victor’s dressing room. “Not in front of me anyway.” He remembers finally having the courage to ask about any past relationships after a few too many shots, the curiosity burning his words as feelings on his stupid crush flipped wildly in his stomach. He just wanted to know if he had a chance, any kind of possibility that he could one day look at him in that way.

Victor had simply tapped him on the nose as the whispered  _“I don’t kiss and tell,”_ washed against his face on a whisky-warmed breath.  

Phichit rolls his eyes. “I think you’ll feel better if you tell him. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

They’re words he’s heard before and not just from Phichit. Deep down he knows that he’s right, that the world isn’t going to end if he’s honest… but it’s the same flicker of cold fear every time he thinks about it that has him regurgitating the same excuse. “He’s such a good friend. It’d ruin everything.”

Yuuri has seen it before. The pity, the coolness of Victor’s forced smile, the artificial sweetness as he told whoever it was that week that he just wasn’t interested. He’d turned down people far more accomplished than Yuuri, people who didn’t turn into a wet anxious mess before every performance or were so annoyingly soft around the middle.

Victor was one in a million, the star of the campus, someone who could enrapture any sized crowd with just a smile, and Yuuri was just… well Yuuri. Someone who could try with all his might and never be more than just a dime a dozen ballet dancer who’d probably spend most of his career filling out chorus parts and teaching disinterested children.

_He didn’t need to be added to Victor’s long line of rejections as well._

“Yuuri!”

His head snaps up at the bright call of his name, Victor pushing his way through the gaggle of fans waiting outside and towards them. He’d ditched his costume in favour of an oversized grey hoody and a pair of sweatpants, the previously neat style on his head hastily looped into a messy braid hanging across his shoulder. Yuuri barely has time to lament how good he still looks in such a sloppy outfit before he’s being pulled into his arms, faced squished firmly against his shoulder.

“Hey Victor,” he mumbles, the perfume on his scarf sweet and strong in his nose as he’s crushed in such a forceful hug.

The warmth in his stomach pulses a little stronger as he feels the curve of Victor’s smile against his hair when he speaks. “You did great out there.”

Yuuri pulls back and rolls his eyes. “I think we both know why so many people came to watch.”

Victor shrugs as he turns to give one last lingering wave to the crowd behind them, the accompanying wink causing several of them to hide squeals behind their hands. “I can’t help that.”

“I was there too you know.” Phichit murmurs as he walks in step with them, arms folded in mock offence.

Yuuri shoves him playfully. “Yes and no one could have guessed which music you’d choose to dance to.”

Frankly if he woke up to the sound of ‘Shall We Skate’ blasting from Phichit’s room one more time he was going to take his limited-edition King and the Skater DVD and throw it from the roof of their building.

“Hey, it’s a classic.”

Yuuri looks down the corridor, rapidly emptying now Victor was leaving.“I thought Chris was meeting us too?”

“Oh, he had to jet off to start setting up for the wrap party at his place later.” Victor turns to them expectantly, eyes bright. “You coming?”

Yuuri blanches as he thinks back to the last time he’d been near any kind of alcohol.

_He still hasn’t got the stains out of his nicest jeans._

“Well-”

“Of course we are.” Phichit jumps in immediately, squeezing Yuuri’s shoulder firmly. “No way we’d miss that.”

“Great!” Victor claps his hands together in almost childish delight as they exit the dance hall and into the sharp chill of the campus.

Yuuri fishes the beanie out of his bag and jams it over his ears, stuffing his hands into his pockets as Victor starts animatedly chatting about ideas for choreography in the new year. He barely feels the bite of the wind against his cheeks as he listens, the sparkle of inspiration in Victor’s eyes too much of a pretty distraction. He can’t help but marvel at how much of a dancer he is even off the stage, the soft flow of his hand movements as he mentions music ideas imbued with such a casual grace. It’s a joy to watch.

Then again, Victor could sit filing tax returns and Yuuri would probably be more than happy to sit and watch.

“-and of course I’ll have help coach you in January.”

Yuuri’s pulled out of his soft revere by the words. “What?”

Victor turns slightly, his smile softening. “Well you were very good at helping me prepare for this performance, I think I need to return the favour.”

He feels his heart leap in his chest. “I barely did anything.”

Victor puffs out a small laugh as he gently puts a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not true.”

He doesn’t know what to say. The notion of Victor helping him, _coaching_ him is something he’d defintiely had more than one extended daydream about. All that time they could spend together, dancing, stretching, talking... it’s a very tempting suggestion.

_But would it be a good use of Victor’s time?_

He bites down the immediate acceptance on the tip of his tongue at the bitter thought.

Studying Victor’s expression, he seems genuine enough with his offer, but the niggling thought about whether he was just being polite or if it was some backhanded slap about the flaws in his own performance were burrowing deeper into his mind with every passing second.

He sighs. “I don’t know if you’d really want to-“

“Right, apparently Chris needs my expert helping setting up for later,” Phichit suddenly interrupts, jamming is phone in his pocket and not so subtly elbowing Yuuri as he starts to head down the opposite street. “I’ll catch you guys tonight!”

Yuuri furrows his brow in confusion. “Don’t you want to come back to our apartment-”

He’s already jogging away, casually waving as he turns an icy street corner. “See you later!”

Yuuri has to fight another eye roll as he stares after him for a few seconds.

_Phichit Chulanont. Smooth as ever when it came to pushing Yuuri in Victor’s direction._

When he turns he sees Victor leaning on the wall next to him, ears pinked from the wind and a few flakes of snow powdering the soft curve of his braid.

He desperately fights the urge to touch, quickly flicking his eyes away and concentrating on the iced grey of the winter clouds as he starts walking again. “When are you heading home for the holidays?”

Victor exhales slowly, his breath a chilled fog as he speaks. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Yuuri tries not to let the disappointment of him leaving so soon colour his tone. “Must be nice to go back to Russia after so long.”

“Eh, I’m mainly there to see Makkachin.” Victor’s expression melts a little at the mention of his poodle’s name. “No matter how much I beg, my landlord will not let me keep her in the house.”

Yuuri chuckles, hoping that some day he’d be able to meet the fluffy star of Victor’s phone background. “They would if they met her.”

Victor laughs again as he grabs his phone from his pocket and brings up the latest video of her his family had sent. “I know right!?”

As they chat, Yuuri can’t stop thinking about how _easy_ being with Victor is. There was never an awkward silence, never any forced small talk, and while the casual touches set Yuuri’s stomach fluttering, he can’t help but see how natural they really are for Victor.

It’s times like this when the idea of them being more doesn’t seem so crazy.

He sometimes wonders how Victor would react if he just reached out and took his hand. Would he even question it? Pull away? Stop walking?

He flicks his eyes down to Victor’s hand casually swaying by his side and they walked, nails painted a soft blue.

 _Would_ _he_ _hold_ _on_ _tight?_

All too soon they arrive at Victor’s street, the steely darkness of dusk starting to paint the sky around them. Victor turns on his heels, another brilliant smile on his face as he pulls Yuuri into a tight hug. “Right I’m off to go and get ready.” He pulls back a little, face close enough that Yuuri can see the smattering of silvery freckles blooming like a constellation across his nose, “I can’t wait to see you later.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbles in a slight daze as the other man starts walking down the darkened road, the heat from where he’d hugged him still warmly present even through his coat. “Later.”

***

Coffee. Yuuri needs good coffee.

After waking up with a head full of aching sludge and a note taped to his bare chest from Phichit saying that he’s already headed home for the holidays and didn’t want to bother him, he didn’t even want to imagine what had gone on at last night’s party.

Considering the burn marks on his thighs and the lipstick stains he’d discovered smeared all over his neck when he went to shower, he hopes that he never finds out.

As he stumbles across the darkening campus, latte in hand, he’s suddenly hit with the icy thought that he might have left his keys locked in the apartment.

Ducking into the library, he hastily spills the entire contents of his bag to the floor, hoping to God he didn’t have to bother his extremely grumpy landlord on Christmas Eve. He’d found a note taped to their freezer a few days ago outlining in less than friendly words exactly why they shouldn’t call him until the new year.

Just as he’s about to explode into a hangover-fuelled meltdown, a relief stronger than last night’s whisky floods through him when he sees his house key drop out of the pages of his diary.

Taking a breath, he drags himself to the nearest chair and lets himself calm down. As he leans his head forward and takes a few sips of his coffee, he suddenly hears a groan coming from a few seats over. Peering closer, he notices the rumpled shape of someone curled up under a blanket on one of the couches, a bare foot dangling off the edge. Their toenails are painted a deep shade of blue.

He blinks in disbelief. He knows that foot.

Walking around to the side of the couch, his suspicions are confirmed.

“Victor?”

The foot twitches, a mess of silver hair shifting from under the blanket revealing an extremely bleary-eyed looking Victor. He slowly shifts to a sitting position, stretching up and yawning as he waves at him. “Oh, hey Yuuri.”

He carefully sits down next to him, the confusion burning in his mind almost eclipsing the lead weight of his hangover. “Why are you sleeping in the library?” 

Victor shrugs, throwing the blanket over Yuuri’s legs as well. “These couches are _very_ comfortable.”

“Wait.” He checks his phone, eyes widening. “Wasn’t your flight supposed to leave an hour ago?”

Victor’s expression falters a little, a small sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah. Buuuut the worst blizzard of the last forty years in my home town plus airline strikes unfortunately means no flights until the new year.”

“Oh Victor.” A stab of empathy shoots through him. He’s reaching over to grab one of Victor’s hands in an instant, perfectly aware of how it feels to miss home, especially during the holidays. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs again. “It’s fine. Just glad this place is open 24 hours.”

“I guess,” he answers, flicking his eyes around the completely empty building. “Or there’s your apartment.”

“Ah. Slight problem with that.” He rubs the back of his neck, gesturing to the suitcase laying on its side at the end of the couch. “I told the landlord I wasn’t going to be in over the Christmas break so he’s letting some his family stay there.”

Yuuri freezes, worry blooming in his mind as he takes in Victor’s sagging appearance. “So, you have nowhere to stay?”

“Hey this place isn’t so bad. Comfy couches, plenty of books, plus Chris told me there’s some porn hidden in the classics section so I’m going to go and find it.”

Yuuri winces at the fake smile clearly plastered on his face, the small panic in his eyes flashing brighter than a beacon. “You can’t stay in the library for two weeks.”

He laughs softly. There’s a distinct nervousness to it. “Well I was hoping I’d think of somewhere else soon enough.”

He rolls his eyes as he stands, grabbing the handle of Victor’s suitcase and wheeling it towards the door. “Come on.”

“What?”

He flicks his head over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “You’re staying with me.” 

He’s at Yuuri’s side in an instant, the pinched worry on his expression melting. “Really?”

Yuuri smiles, reaching over with one hand to straighten Victor’s coat. “Yes obviously. I’m not leaving you in here over Christmas.”

Victor cocks his head as he bends down to put his shoes back on. “You aren’t going home?”

He pushes down the flicker of sadness at not seeing his family or his dog for  _another_  year, focussing more intently how a man who’s spent the last few hours napping in a public library somehow still looked so amazing. “Flights are expensive, plus we really don’t celebrate Christmas, so I’m stuck here too.”

“Thank you!” He grabs both of Yuuri’s hands, squeezing them a little too tightly as a grin brighter than a morning sunrise splits across his face. “I promise I won’t be any bother!!”

Yuuri can’t stop his own smile at Victor’s animated joy, taking off his beanie and jamming it on Victor’s head as they head out into the snow. “Why do I doubt that.”

***

“Oof, it’s freezing in here.” Victor shudders as he steps through Yuuri’s front door, the hall almost as bitingly cold as the street they just came from.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Yuuri mumbles sheepishly as he toes off his shoes. “The heating unit’s been crapping out for a while, so we’ve had to make do.” He gestures to the small portable radiator unplugged by the door and the mess of blankets on the couch.

“Well I’m sure we could find some way to keep warm,” Victor mutters, his voice suddenly right by Yuuri’s ear as he wraps his arms around his shoulder.

He fights the shudder at Victor’s sudden proximity, attempting to laugh it off as he drags Victor’s suitcase down the hall and into the first door on the left. He just hopes the blush on his cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels. “O- Okay well you can stay in here.” 

Victor follows behind him, a slight confusion to his tone. “This is your room.”

“Uh, Phichit locked his before he left so it’s all I’ve got right now.”

“Wow.” He walks past him and perches on the edge of the bed, winking as he reclines against the duvet. “How forward of you.”

It takes Yuuri a few seconds to process his meaning, his eyes shooting open comically wide. “Oh…No. No, you take the bed. I’ll have the couch.”

Victor immediately sits back up, the edge of humour to his tone gone.  “What? Yuuri, I can’t force you out of your own room.”

“You aren’t forcing me, I’m insisting.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the side of the doorway with a cool, practiced expression.

He doesn’t particularly want to sleep on the couch, especially as he isn’t exactly sure when the last time they vacuumed it was, but the alternative was forcing Victor to suffer that bumpy night’s sleep instead.

_He’s also fairly certain he’ll get even less sleep if he was lying anywhere near Victor._

It’s not that he’d ever dream of doing any inappropriate, but even after the years of friendship he can still feel the warmed flutters in his belly every time he’s close to him.

He shakes the thought from his head, watching Victor open his mouth to protest his offer before clicking it shut and walking over to hug him again.

“Thank you Yuuri.”

He deeply inhales the sweet perfumed scent from his coat, letting his hands linger a little as he wraps them around Victor’s waist. “You’re welcome.” As he pulls back, his stomach flips at little at the fondness painted warmly across the other man’s face, his words sticking like honey in his throat as Victor  reaches over to softly fix the mess of Yuuri’s hair.

_Tell him how you feel._

Phichit’s voice suddenly chimes into his head, the echo of yesterday’s words loud and firm in his mind.

He looks back up to Victor. He’s holding him, touching him gently, his expression sweet and soft as they stand together.

He tries not to bite his lip. He can’t deny that this is arguably the right time.

He slowly takes a breath as he opens his mouth, trying not to let his words shake. “Victor do you-”

_Just say it._

“you-”

_Say it!_

He sighs, dropping his gaze. “Do you want some tea?”

Victor smiles as he turns on his heels and heads towards the kitchen, calling behind him. “I’ll put the kettle on!”

Yuuri stays glued to the spot for a minute, the mental slap from missing such a perfect opportunity to confess smarting almost as badly as a physical strike. He lets out another long exhale as he shuffles after him, trying to ignore the cruel taunt scraping through his thoughts.

_Coward._

***

_This was a good idea._

_This was a good idea._

_This was definitely a good idea._

Three hours of tossing on the couch and Yuuri is starting to regret his decision slightly.

Once night had fallen properly, he’d sent Victor off with the radiator to make him as comfortable as possible, fairly certain that with the spare blanket he’d be _fine_ on the couch.

As another bite of cold seeps through the sheets he’s cocooned himself in, he idly wonders how hard it would be to pick Phichit’s lock.

_He knows he’s got another heater in there._

Letting out another chattering exhale, he reaches down and pulls another blanket over his head, the burn of tiredness behind his eyes doing nothing to mute the chill currently soaking down to his bones.

As he finally starts to drift a little, he hears soft footsteps cut through the quiet, a warm presence suddenly by his side.

“Yuuri?”

He blearily registers his own name, taking a few seconds to recognise that it’s Victor’s voice next to him. “Mmmm?”

He feels a hand against his arm, a worried whisper fanning against his face. “Jesus Yuuri, you’re freezing.”

“Mmm fine.” He slowly sits up, grabbing his glasses from the arm of the couch so he can see Victor properly. He’s wrapped in a long brown cardigan, nothing but a pair of black leggings covering his lower half. He would take a second to appreciate how soft and sweet he looks in his sleeping ensemble if he wasn’t fighting another shudder at the sight of his bare feet on the hardwood.

“No you’re not.” He sits down next to him and tugs the blanket a little more firmly around his shoulders before pulling Yuuri into the warm circle of his arms.

In his sleepy state, he can’t help but nuzzle against the heat of the Victor’s chest, his eyes hazily recognising the logo partially obscured by Victor’s cardigan. “Is that my shirt?”

As he looks up, he swears he catches the beginnings of a blush dusting Victor’s cheek. “All mine are stuffed at the bottom of my suitcase.” It sounds like a flimsy excuse but he can’t think of another reason why he’d want one of Yuuri’s ratty old shirts, so stuffs the thought away.

“Go back to bed,” he murmurs, turning and curling up into a smaller ball, trying to hide his shivers. “I’ll be alright.”

He hears the huff of a stubborn exhale before Victor has Yuuri’s arm in an iron grip, yanking him up off the couch. “No, I’m not leaving you out here.”

“Victor?” He barely has time to protest before he’s being pulled down the shadowed hallway and into his bedroom.

“Come on.”

“Wha-”

Victor’s words are soft but firm as he closes the door behind them. “Yuuri I think I’d feel a lot worse if I woke up to find you’d frozen to death for the sake of being polite.”

“I’ll- uh. I’ll get someone to look at the heating tomorrow,” he mumbles, relaxing a little at the much more pleasant temperature of the air around him.

Victor chuckles as he walks past him and sits on the edge of the matress. “On Christmas Day? Good luck with that.”

It’s not a large bed, third year and mounting bills meaning he hadn’t had the money to spring for a double room. There’s barely enough room for Victor’s slender build, so when Yuuri awkwardly stands next to it, he isn’t even sure he’ll be able to lie down properly without either crushing Victor or hanging awkwardly off the side.

Victor doesn’t seem bothered as he shuffles back under the covers, shucking off the cardigan as he goes. 

Yuuri immediately pulls off his glasses, anything to stop himself from staring too obviously at the perfect sight that is Victor in nothing but his oversized t shirt and a pair of leggings. As he places them carefully on the nightstand, he sees the blurry shape of Victor settling back against his pillows and patting the small section of mattress next to him in open invitation. “Getting in?” 

Yuuri hesitates for a second before sitting down against the very edge. His initial assessment had been right, squashed next to Victor he can feel himself ready to topple off, so positions himself rigidly with his back straight against the headboard and one leg dangling off the edge.

He can almost feel Victor’s eye roll as he shuffles towards him. “That doesn’t look very comfortable Yuuri.”

He huffs out a nervous laugh as he tries to manoeuvre himself a little more. “I don’t know if I can-”

Before he can finish, he suddenly feels Victor hooking onto his shirt and pulling him down against the mattress, pinning him there with his long left arm. Yuuri opens his mouth to protest but any words evaporate in his throat as Victor softly rolls him onto his side, wrapping his arm more securely his middle and moulding himself against his back.

Yuuri has to remind himself to breathe.

“Is this okay?” He feels the warmth of Victor’s lips brushing ever so closely to his skin as he speaks, his breath tickling the sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Y-Yes.” His answer is barely a breath, all the nerves in his body suddenly attuned and hyper aware of every single place Victor and him are connected. He tries to keep still, to relax into the softness of the man behind him, yet all he can concentrate on his how acutely he can feel each of Victor’s breaths against his back: the shift of his muscles, the rise of his chest, the whispers of warm air against his neck as he exhales.

It’s almost too much and they haven’t even done anything.

He stays like that as Victor shifts into a more comfortable position behind him. His arm moves until it’s resting just above the sliver of skin where Yuuri’s shirt has ridden up, the curve of what he assumes is Victor’s bottom lip brushing ever so softly against the tip of his ear as he stretches over to turn off the lamp. 

_“Goodnight Yuuri.”_

The blanket of darkness is little comfort, only making the rest of his senses more keenly aware of the man currently holding him so tenderly. 

He knows he’s being stupid, that Victor has always been very open with his touches when it came to showing affection. But this, being cuddled so softly while Victor idly brushes his bare stomach with the pads of his fingers… it didn’t feel so platonic.

As the minutes slowly tick by, he wonders if Victor can hear his heartbeat pounding louder than a bass drum in his ears, his pulse fluttering every time Victor reflexively holds him a little tighter. He tries to not jump in surprise as he feels Victor’s bare foot slowly rub against his own, their legs tangling together in a warm mess.

Yuuri tries to just relax a little, but he just can’t let himself get over how it feels almost… wrong. He bites his lip as memories of all the fantasies he’d had about Victor in this very bed flash hot and unwelcome through his mind. How now he’s holding him, spooning their bodies together in that very same bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

As he takes another breath to try and calm himself, he feels Victor move again, his pelvis pressing a little more firmly into his rear.

He freezes. A thicker embarrassment floods every part of his body at how badly he wants to push back, to grab Victor’s thigh and chase the friction he’d just felt the tiniest flicker of. 

He bites his lip until he can taste blood.

_God he’s disgusting._

As he mentally chastises himself, he suddenly feels a sharper exhale against his neck, Victor’s voice a warm rush against his ear.

“You’re worried about something.”

He lets out a stuttered breath, desperately trying to find his words. “Am I?”

Victor grips onto Yuuri’s side and twists him until they’re facing each other, the soft shine of those blue eyes clear as the stars even in the darkness. “You’re so stiff.”

He feels like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the shame at every dirty little thought he’s ever had about Victor pooling coldly in the front of his mind. He exhales slowly, picking each word carefully as he quietly replies. “Ah I just…I don’t think I got a very good grade on my final performance.”

It tastes like a lie on his tongue despite it being so close to the truth. If Victor wasn’t here, that was probably what he’d be thinking about right now.

Or rather, trying not to.

_All the people he’d let down, all that wasted work, everything he ever wanted... gone. All because he didn’t have the self-control or the determination to-_

“Why?”

Victor’s soft question pulls him out of his spiralling train of thought, his tone seeming genuinely curious.

“I -I could feel it when I finished.” He winces at the memory: the murmur of the pity claps still ringing in his ears, the pointed stares of his instructors like daggers against his skin. 

He sighs as he tries to shake the images from his mind. “The audience definitely didn’t look inspired.”

Victor cocks his head, bringing a finger to his bottom lip as he whispers. “I watched you. I thought you were great.”

Yuuri laughs softly and shakes his head. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” He knows it’s the highest compliment coming from someone like Victor, but he knows him well enough to feel when he’s just being polite. “I’ll just work harder in the new year.”

He hears the other man move, the weight of Victor’s hand suddenly against his arm. “You are _exceptionally_ talented Yuuri.” Through the darkness he can see the soft curve of his lips as they move, his voice a warmed whisper as it brushes against his skin. “You must know that.”

He swallows at the sincerity of the words, the openness to his tone something he’s not sure he’s ever heard before. “That’s sweet, but I know I’ll never have your kind of talent.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. “Really?”

He sees the brightness of Victor’s gaze briefly flick down. “The beginning of the year, I saw you practicing in one of the old studios.” He exhales slowly as he meets his face again. “It was my audition piece.”

He feels the heat rise under the blanket a little.

Yuuri remembers that day well. Remembers how overwhelmed he’d been by the first few weeks back, how he knew he’d never be good enough to keep up with the people around him. Sitting shaking and alone in that dance studio, he’d tried to calm himself by focusing on something, _anything_ good to stop the storm of panic he could feel ready to burst through his entire body. 

His dog.

His family.

_Victor._

He’d remembered when Victor had shown him his old audition piece those months ago, how he’d watched it again and again and again after that, wondering if there was any way he could echo even a fraction of the grace that seemed to radiate from Victor’s very soul as he moved.

So pushing down his shaking fear that day, he’d stood tall, brought the song up on his phone and tried something different. Tried to do what Victor would.

_And he’d seen him._

“I didn’t know you’d watched me.” There’s no fear at the realisation, more wonderment that he hadn’t lamented him for how much of a poor imitation it probably was.

“It seemed like a private moment. I didn’t think you’d want to know someone had been watching.” Victor shifts his head into the mattress a little, his voice small, almost ashamed. “Sorry.”

“No- no it’s fine.” He wants to be embarrassed, shocked at the fact his idol had caught him during such a low moment but he just... can’t for some reason. 

He barely notices the diminishing space between them, the way Victor shifts his face ever so slightly so their foreheads touch as they both lie warm and shadowed in the darkness.

“You danced it better than I ever did.”

“That’s not true.”

 _“Yes it is.”_  He’s moving again, each individual fingertip a sweet pressure point as he starts to lightly stroke his hand up and down the muscles of Yuuri’s arm. “The way you moved, it was like the music was part of you, like there was nothing else in the world except you at the sway of that melody. It was  _beautiful._ ”

He feels the heat of tension between them pulse, can almost see the edge of no return flashing in front of him as his own hand slips across the mattress to touch the soft dip of Victor’s hip. “Victor. I-”

“Yuuri.” He feels the firmness of his own name washed against his lips, Victor’s voice barely a whisper between them. “Do you - do you remember what you were thinking about when you danced that piece?”

A few minutes ago he would have lied, said anything to end the conversation, to shuffle out of his embrace and berate himself for being a coward. But right now, with nothing but the warmth of a breath between their faces and the open ache in Victor’s eyes, he can’t stop the truth brushing past his lips in a painfully earnest whisper.

_“You.”_

Victor’s reaction is instant.

He barely has to move to close the remaining distance between them, simply gripping onto Yuuri’s arm a little tighter and raising his head from the mattress so he can gently press his lips to Yuuri’s in an achingly soft kiss.

It’s different to how Yuuri expected his first real kiss to be. Gentler. More grounded. Kissing someone like Victor, he expected jitters in his body and fireworks exploding under his lips… but no. It was something more solid, like the feel of the stage beneath his feet, the blooming joy of coming home.

And just as soon as Yuuri starts to properly taste a little of Victor’s lips, it’s over, Victor pulling back with a heavy breath and wide pupils.

Yuuri takes a second to even his breathing. 

“Victor.” He isn’t sure what to say. How to find the words to explain how amazing that was, clear up the small spark of confusion of why he did it. Why now. Why _him._

Victor blinks slowly, before reaching out to lightly run his fingers across the curve of Yuuri’s cheek, his voice low and airy. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

He feels his brain short circuit. “You have?”

“Of course.” His face is against his again, the movement of his lips pressing the softness of a feather’s kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I’d really like to do it again.”

Yuuri doesn’t fight it. Just relaxes into the soft pressure of Victor moving his hand to lightly caress the back of neck, catching the individual sweep of each silver eyelash as he angles his head to gently kiss him again.

And just as soon as before, Victor’s lips are gone again.

He opens his mouth to protest, but stops when he catches the burning expression smouldering behind Victor’s hooded eyes.

“Okay?” Victor whispers gently, gripping him a little tighter.

Yuuri closes the distance between them this time, heart pounding in his chest as the firmest words he’s spoken all evening push past his lips.  _“Definitely okay.”_

He might not know exactly why Victor wants this, but he certainly isn’t going to waste an opportunity that previously he could have only dreamed of.

He slides his arms firmly around Victor’s side so he can slot their bodies more easily against each other, pressing their lips together in a stronger kiss. This time Victor opens up a little more, softly running his tongue across Yuuri’s lower lip almost asking permission to delve deeper. He returns in kind, tasting the sweetness of his breath as he kisses him the way he’s always wanted to.

_Hungrily._

After a few minutes, Yuuri gets tired of almost slipping off of the bed so twists himself into a sitting position, pulling Victor so he’s straddling his lap. Victor’s eyes widen at the sudden change of position but quickly smiles, lightly pressing a finger to Yuuri’s bottom lip. “Now that,” his strokes supple curve with his thumb, his tone playful, “-was being forward.” 

Yuuri has to fight his eye roll as he kisses him again, one hand slipping under the t shirt to stroke lost skin, the other tangling in the finer hairs at the nape of his neck. As Victor shifts in his lap, their kisses become messier, hotter, their mouths moving in a slick slide as they both chase the heat building like an open flame between them. After a few minutes, he pulls away slightly to softly drag his fingers through the loose braid he’d left his hair in, lightly brushing through so it spills in a wavy mess across his shoulders. He catches the playful spark in Victor’s eye as he toys with the delicate strands, curling them gently around his fingers before watching them unravel and slip like silvery silk through his fingers.

Victor quirks an eyebrow. “You like my hair?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, dropping the few strands in his grasp.  “I just always wanted to touch it.”

“Don’t apologise,” Victor chuckles softly, taking both of Yuuri’s hands and placing them against the sides of his face. “Touch all you like.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He feels a new kind of joy blooming in his chest as he continues to stroke his fingers through the fine strands of Victor’s hair, the softest amusement dancing across the other man’s expression. Yuuri watches with satisfaction at the flutter of Victor’s eyelids as he carefully brushes the longer pieces away from his face, before lightly tracing his fingers across the softness of his cheek, against the sharp cut of his jaw and slowly down the sweet curve of his neck. He pauses there, captivated by the small sounds barely audible blooming form the back of Victor’s throat as he strokes just above his collarbone. Pushing on the burst of confidence he feels burning in his gut, he buries his face in the crook of his neck, flicking his tongue out to taste the sweetness of his skin.

The soft cry that drips from Victor’s lips as he presses his mouth to the same spot is one be _knows_ will feature prominently in his dreams probably forever.

Encouraged by the reaction, he flicks his tongue out once more before opening his mouth to softly suck on the small patch of skin.

Victor’s fingers fly to Yuuri’s hair, gripping harder as he rocks more firmly down on Yuuri’s lap, another desperate gasp washing past his ear as he continues to tease him.

_Oh this man is going to kill him._

He doesn’t hesitate this time as he bites down on the spot, just enough to mark, to let the world know what he could do, _what Victor wanted him to do,_ before he soothes the indents with slow strokes of his tongue.

Yuuri knows how much he wants this, knows Victor can definitely feel it too from the way he’s shifting against his lap, one wicked rotation of his hips pulling an almost inhuman noise from the back of his throat.

He has the audacity to chuckle at that, repeating the motion with a little more force so Yuuri grasps onto his hips with a steelier grip, mouth dropping open as he throws his head back against the headboard.

“Victor, Victor I-”  _love you, adore you, ache for you,_  “I want you.”

Victor pulls Yuuri’s face back to his own, the prettiest scarlet blush clear and deep across his cheeks even in the darkness. “And what-” a kiss to his throat “-exactly” one to his jaw, “-do you want?” Another lingering kiss against his lips before he pulls back with devilishly dark eyes.

“Everything,” he eventually manages to gasp out, for once his heart, his brain and his groin all screaming the same thing. He reaches up to brush his fingers against Victor’s face, palming the warmth of his cheeks in his hands as he whispers the words he’d been wanting to tell him for so _so_ long. “I want all of you.”

He watches the weight of his statement hit Victor, the tease on his expression melting into something a little softer as he twists to kiss the palm of his hand.

_“Now that I can definitely do for you.”_

 

 ***

It’s warm when Yuuri wakes. Warm and... heavy.

It takes him a few seconds to realise that he’s fully awake… as well as the fact he’s completely naked and currently squished underneath one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.

 _Victor_.

Specifically, a completely nude Victor who’s curled around him like ivy, his long hair a soft mess as it spills across his shoulders and the planes of Yuuri’s chest.

They’d shifted slightly as they’d slept, tangled in a compact mess of limbs and blankets to avoid falling off the edge of the bed.

He chuckles softly at Victor’s adorable sleepy smile as he brushes his fingers through his hair, stroking his fingers down to gently trace the curve of his spine. Victor unconsciously shifts a little against his touch, letting out a sleepy mumble as he nuzzles a little further into Yuuri’s chest.

His other arm might be numb from Victor laying on it, but he isn’t sure he’s ever been this happy to be awake.

As he continues to gently straighten the wavy nest of Victor’s hair away from his neck, he feels a familiar heat flash through him at the pattern of pink and red marks blooming across his skin, very clearly in the shape of Yuuri’s mouth. Smirking at the memory of how they got there, he lightly brushes over one with his fingers, Victor murmuring softly again at the light caress.

Leaning down slightly, he lets himself indulge a little more, marvelling at the fact that he’s allowed to now as he peppers a few quick kisses against the soft flush on his cheeks. When he doesn’t respond, he shifts to kiss him a little more firmly, squeezing onto the softness around his hip as he gently whispers against his lips. “Good morning.”

Victor’s eyes finally open a little, his expression thick and clouded. His gaze brightens as he registers Yuuri, his smile sweet and sloppy as he shuffles up his chest to return the kiss with eager lips.“Good morning.”

Yuuri swallows Victor’s sigh as he slowly drags his hands down the firm muscles of his sides, pausing to rest them against the small of his back. When he pulls back, Yuuri takes a second to appreciate the happiness painted across his sleepy face, the deep pink of his kiss-bruised lips. He leans in to whisper against them again. “Did you sleep well?”

Victor laughs into the kiss slightly as Yuuri softly traces his fingers across his ribs, his eyes softer than the summer sea as he quietly replies. “ _Very_.”

As they roll around in the pool of sheets around them, Yuuri still can’t believe that last night happened, that this morning wasn’t some kind of vivid dream playing in his mind after hitting his head on the edge of the stage and slipping into a coma.

Victor notices the quiet laugh bubbling from his lips as they kiss, pulling back with a curious expression. “What?”

Yuuri’s smile widens a little as he reaches out to gently trace the edge of Victor’s jaw. “I just can’t believe we did that.”

“Really?”

He feels the flush on his cheeks spread to his chest, quickly flicking his eyes away in embarrassment. “I just never thought you… I mean that you’d even like me that way.”

Victor rolls his eyes as he keeps planting soft kisses against his face. “I thought that after the Christmas party it’d be obvious.”

Yuuri’s hands stop moving. “The Christmas party?”

Victor pulls back, a small tease dancing in the softness of his eyes. “It was such a wonderful evening.”

“It was?”

“Yeah… wait.” His expression furrows a little, a realisation slowly breaking across his face. “Do you not remember?”

Yuuri scratches his head. “I remember doing ten shots before I left the apartment and then a lot more once I arrived there.“ He’dbeen systemically trying to avoid thinking about that night, but even when his mind ended up drifting to the party, he’s met with a hazy mess of blurred images and the echoed taste of nasty drinks.

“Oh wow.” Victor’s gaze drops a little as he moves to sit up. “Well that explains why...” He trails off, suddenly searching through the mess of sheets around them.

“Victor?” He reaches out to touch his shoulder, but he keeps searching around them, mumbling intently. “Where is it? I swear I left it here.”

He tries not to focus too obviously on the perfect curve of Victor’s ass as he bends over the side of the bed, searching intently through the pockets of his jeans. After a couple of minutes he leans back against Yuuri’s side with a smile, unlocked phone in hand. Pulling up his photo album, he scrolls back a few and places it in his hand along with his glasses from the bedside table.

Putting them on, he’s instantly struck dumb by the person staring back at him from the screen.

It’s definitely him, but judging by the sloppy look on his face and the tie he definitely knows isn’t his wrapped around his head, it’s him after God-knows how many drinks.

Victor chuckles as he takes in his shocked expression, flicking to the next photo. “Right this was about ten minutes after I turned up,” he murmurs, a picture of Yuuri wrapped around Victor like a flag, his pants nowhere to be seen as he smashes his face against his chest. He flicks to the next picture, Yuuri now dipping Victor dramatically, the biggest grin brightly shining on both of their faces. “And this was about ten minutes after that.”

He feels his cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson with every swipe of Victor’s thumb. He sees them dance together, hug, spin, more and more of Yuuri’s clothes disappearing with each new photo until he’s in nothing but his boxers and gripping intently onto a-

“Chris has a pole!?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he stares at himself holding a perfect extended skater, eyes blurry.

_Well that explains the burn marks._

“Yep.” Victor laughs softly as he zooms in the picture showing Yuuri’s wide smile. “And apparantly you were _very_ happy about that.”

“Oh my God.” He flops back against the bed pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why do these things always happen to me.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been drinking, knew it was only going to end up being an embarrassing mess like last time.

He feels his hand being gently lifted away, the sweetest smile on Victor’s face as he rolls over and braces himself on is hands and knees above him. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I made a complete fool of myself in front of everyone,” he murmurs, avoiding his gaze. “I think now is the perfect time to be embarrassed.”

Victor shakes his head and lowers himself to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You were the life and soul of that party I assure you.” He gently tips Yuuri’s face with his fingers until he’s facing him properly again. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

His embarrassment evaporates a little at the words. “Really?”

“Of course.” Victor shifts so he can rest more comfortably across Yuuri’s chest, dropping his gaze to watch as he traces lazy patterns against his skin. “Finally getting to dance with the man I’ve been so enamoured with for so long? It was a Christmas miracle.”

It takes him a second to process his words.

 _Victor... enamoured with him? No, that couldn’t be right. Someone like Victor wouldn’t..._  
  
He stops the train of thought before it spirals out of control, for once a warm logic pinning it down.  
  
_He just spent the night with you, holding you, telling you he wanted you, making love to you... This is real._

“How long?”

“Hmmm?” Victor flicks his eyes up, gaze soft.

Yuuri chuckles and wraps his arms around him a little tighter. “You said ‘enamoured with for so long.’ So I’m asking, how long?”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Do you want the exact number of days?”

“No but I’d like to know how long I’ve been pining and it not been one-sided.”

He takes a few seconds to respond, continuing to gently stroke his fingers against Yuuri’s chest before answering with slow, sweet words. “Ever since I met you, I always knew there was… something there.” He drags his finger up the centre of Yuuri’s chest before gently fanning his fingers out across his heart, tone as soft as his expression. “But seeing you dance my routine like that, I think that cemented it for me.”

Yuuri feels his world go pink at that, wondering it was possible to blush any harder then he already was.

“Happy now?” Victor murmurs, shuffling up his body to softly kiss his nose. “You’re one in a million Yuuri. And I’ve wanted you to see that for so long.”

Yuuri barely has time to gush out his own response before Victor is kissing him again, harder this time as his hand starts delving south of the covers. Echoes of last night’s pleasure pulse through his body as he rediscovers the silky feel of Victor’s skin under his fingertips, before one thought suddenly settles loud and hot at the front of his mind.

“Wait.” He pulls away slightly to reach over and grab Victor’s phone, scrolling back through the photos. The first one of the evening was a selfie of Victor and Chris, lifting their drinks in a toast. While the very revealing black ensemble barely covering any of Victor would have normally been the focus, Yuuri finds himself staring at the happy curve of his mouth instead, his lips painted an artful shade of red.

“Oh my God, you’re the reason I had all those marks on my neck,” he murmurs in disbelief, watching the lipstick on his lips getting progressively more smudged as he scrolls through the rest of the pictures.

“Ah… yes.” The blush now blooming on his cheeks could match the shade of that lipstick as he takes his phone back. “I did apologise about that on the night, but I really don’t think you noticed.”

Yuuri laughs again as he grabs onto Victor and flips them, swallowing the other man’s gasp with a kiss as he presses himself against the soft lines of his naked body. After throughly reacquainting himself with the sweetness of Victor’s lips, he lifts himself up a little, his words a warm mumble against the other man’s Cupid’s bow. “I think I can live with that.”

After a few more wandering kisses and touches, he settles himself more comfortably against Victor’s chest, perfectly aware the happiness he feels is shining clear as the morning sunrise on his face. He ducks his head to press one more kiss against his heart, words a soft mumble against his skin. “Merry Christmas Victor.”

Victor smiles at the words, leaning down to brush his kiss reddened lips against Yuuri’s ear.

“Merry Christmas Yuuri.”

**Author's Note:**

> The unofficial title of this piece was “How can I write porn without actually making it porn”
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/) \- @ravensmores


End file.
